


Sowing the Hardy Seed of Hope

by Cobalt_Djinn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU after Mustafar, Empire, Force Ghost Qui-Gon Jinn, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Obi-Wan the Historian, Obi-Wan the teacher of war orphans, Rebellion, Romance, post-ROTS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6784558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobalt_Djinn/pseuds/Cobalt_Djinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(AU from Mustafar) Obi-Wan has had enough of prophecies and predeterminations. Instead of exiling himself to the deserts of Tatooine, he journeys through the strife-beleaguered galaxy with the ghost of Qui-Gon Jinn. At first he is a distant observer. But soon, he begins encountering young people whose brimming potentials call to the teacher in him. He takes on a padawan, and another, and another. So a younger, gentler generation of Jedi is born in the shadow of the Empire. His padawans do not fight with lightsabers. They do not manipulate minds. But they are Jedi, guardians of justice and peace for the galaxy.</p><p>Or: Master Kenobi does not need Anakin’s offsprings to build the New Jedi Order. He could do it himself, and do it well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> In which Obi-Wan acted like Edward Gibbons, and took several more padawans, not all of them Force-sensitive.
> 
> Have I mentioned that I love feedback?
> 
> (I don't own the Star Wars universe, and I make no profit from this story)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  This Holocron is dedicated to:  
>  Padme Amidala,  
>  Mace Windu,  
>  Qui-Gon Jinn,  
>  and  
>  All the souls that left this world due to war and conflict 

 

_Preface to the Holocron:_

_The last decades of the Galactic Republic were an age of confusion, as its denizens bore witness to the swift and unexpected crumbling of the sociopolitical structure that had united the known star systems for millenniums; the people had known corruption, but they did not suspect the complete corrosion of all the Republic’s core values. Those years were also the epoch of terror, for a war unprecedented in its scope, speed and savagery assuaged the Republic and none of the safeguards, the Constitution, the Senate, the Judicial or the Jedi, could prevent the devastation the war wrecked on carefully cultivated peace. Those years were the period of paranoia; soldiers and citizens, peacekeepers and bureaucrats alike performed their functions with the intuitive knowledge that their actions were the results of manipulation by an individual who stood outside the panopticon and who smiled as they gasped and perished in flames._

_This holocron, titled “Seed of Hope”, documents the failures of the Republic Senate and the Jedi Order and their eventual destruction by the alliance known as the Confederacy of Independent Systems (CIS), which was masterminded by Sith Darth Sidious, formerly known as Sheev Palpatine of Chommell Sector, currently holding the title of Galactic Emperor. In order to fully understand the complex causes that resulted in this catastrophe, references are made to the formation of the Jedi Order, the three Great Schisms, the formation of Galactic Republic, and more recently the Stark Hyperspace War, the Military Creation Act, the Clone War, the Third Jedi Purge and the founding of Galactic Empire. This holocron also details the author’s observation of the social, political and military methods by which Darth Sidious engineered the galaxy-wide transition from democracy to totalitarian regime, and the methods by which local citizens create and maintain organised resistance under systematic surveillance and suppression._

_I, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, am the creator of this holocron. I have served the Jedi Order first as a Knight, then a Master, and eventually a member of the High Council. During the Clone War I have also served the Senate as General of the Republic Army. Due to the limited access to unedited, uncensored information under the current regime, most of the content of this holocron is derived from my understanding of the Republic’s history, the intelligence of the Jedi Council and my personal observations. I deliver this holocron in the hope that some of the great struggles of my age would be remembered, futile though those struggles were. It is also my sincerest wish that this document provides historians from a later age with an understanding of the events surrounding the fall of the Galactic Republic._

_History must be learnt lest it be repeated. Learn well from the follies of the people of the old Republic. I wish that you live in a more peaceful time. May the Force be with you._

 

 

_Obi-Wan Kenobi_

_985th Year after Ruusan Reformation_

_5th Year of the Galactic Empire_


	2. The Desert and the Deserter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Excerpt from Section 8, Chapter 11 of “Seed of Hope”:_
> 
>  
> 
> _“The Jedi Council decided to granted Anakin Skywalker an apprenticeship based on the confluence of Skywalker’s high midichlorian count, his alleged miraculous conception by the Force and the reemergence of the Sith. After Skywalker’s destruction of Trade Federation's command ship during the Naboo Invasion, it was determined that Skywalker was the Chosen One prophesied to bring balance to the Force, and therefore must receive Jedi training to control his abilities and unlock his potentials. Skywalker’s psychological stability, his social aptitude or his compatibility with the Jedi lifestyle had no bearing on the final decision making. It was thus that a nine year old human boy who has been a slave since birth came into the Jedi’s folds, apprenticed to another newly knighted Jedi. The process of Skywalker’s admittance and the lack of timely psychological treatment in his early apprenticeship would eventually prove ruinous to his personality development.”_

 

“No,” stated Obi-Wan firmly. “I cannot. You’re asking for things I cannot give.” His calm countenance belied the rising tide of despair that threatened to pull him under. He turned away from the glowing figure of his old Master, dreading the look of disappointment he would find on that familiar visage. How quickly everything had turned sour. Not forty minutes ago he had been beyond ecstatic at finding the blue spectre hovering near the moisture collectors in his temporary shelter, but now it seemed they were to part just as swiftly, and this time on even bitterer term than the last. It was a dream turned nightmarish, a parody of the reunion he had longed for ever since Master Yoda mentioned the possibility.

“No?” repeated Qui-Gon — or Qui-Gon’s manifestation through the Force, to be precise — rather incredulously. His tone was deceptively mild, a sure sign that he was about to make his distaste known. His Master looked just as he remembered. Soft brows, strong nose, penetrating eyes. Insubstantial though he was, he towered in Obi-Wan’s small hovel. “How could you ignore your duty? To the Republic? To the Force? This isn’t like you, Obi-Wan.”

In the past that tone had never failed to make him feel inadequate. Now it caused Obi-Wan to be hyperaware of his wrinkled face, skeletal frame and unkempt beard. He looked and smelled and felt like a desperately emaciated refugee. The urge to obey clawed at his mind. Even if he did not want Qui-Gon’s approval so, twelve years of apprenticeship had conditioned Obi-Wan to comply with any order his Master might issue. The impulse had grown overwhelming after spending the last decade of his life fulfilling his Master’s demand.

“No, I will not fashion Luke Skywalker into a weapon for the destruction of the Empire,” Obi-Wan restated. He had perfected his impassive facade in the years in the field and in the Council chamber, and he called upon the ability now to rein in the raging impulse to throw himself to the ground and beg Qui-Gon to _…_ to what? He had lost the right to ask years ago. “My duty is to the Light. I have seen him to safety, and I will continue to protect him from discovery, but I will do no more.”

Obi-Wan was exhausted and miserable. Even late in the afternoon the heat of Tatooine was oppressive, a pulsing presence all around him that was almost sentient. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face and neck, sticking his thin hemp shirt to his chest and back. He was so very tired. 

“Luke has an astronomical midichlorian count, Obi-Wan. His potential cannot be ignored. He will overthrow the Empire and fulfil his father’s prophecy. He will bring balance to the Force if only you will train him in the Jedi arts.” He could tell that Qui-Gon was angry, and impatient beneath that veneer of calm. Obi-Wan had seen that thunderous frown directed at many a Council member, and now he was at the receiving end of it. As befit his status, he supposed. “Don’t be so difficult, Padawan. You know you must do this.”

_Train the boy._ The padawan in him quailed at those words. Abruptly he was in the Council chamber again, being repudiated, being forsaken. And he was standing on the landing pad again, attempting to warn his Master of the dangers he sensed around Anakin. He was in the power generator in Theed, so utterly terrified by the rapid draining of life force from the limp body in his lap that he almost did not register the stinging betrayal of _another_ name on Qui-Gon’s lips. _Train the boy._

But a part of Obi-Wan was also the Jedi Knight. That part of him understood duty beyond mere obedience. “One of the things that went wrong with Anakin” — how that name stung! — “was that we dangled his _destiny_ in front of him. We treated him as a mean to the end instead of an end in himself. We erred in believing in destiny, in thinking of people’s worth in terms of midichlorian counts or in terms of their potential to affect the Force’s balance. Now, if Luke is our second chance as you imply, I will start by not using him as a tool.”

They had started arguing in the late afternoon, and now the second of the twin suns was sinking beneath the horizon. The orange light filled his bare room, leaving Qui-Gon’s translucent form almost invisible.

“Is that what you truly believe?” asked Qui-Gon.

_Force, give me strength._

“Yes, Master,” said Obi-Wan, tasting death on his tongue. 

Even though he knew what was to come, the shock of Qui-Gon’s dematerialisation still resonated through his bones. That familiar presence in the Force was simply _gone_ , vanishing tracelessly like dews on Tatooine mornings. Obi-Wan stared out of the window, allowing his vision to be momentarily blinded by the dying light. 

Such was the motif of Obi-Wan’s life: Qui-Gon’s dismissal, Qui-Gon’s departure. He was always left one step behind, offering his heart in his hands and knowing that it would never be enough.

Suddenly everything blurred together: Coruscant, Utapau, Tatooine, Polis Massa, Naboo. The tight hold he had exerted over his grief rapidly unravelled, and the rolling wave of emotions hit him with the force of a sandstorm, sweeping him into its gyring folds and threatening to tear him apart with its ferocious currents. There was a deep humming in his ears that could be the buzz of his vapour collector, thrum of hyperdrive engine, the ignition of a lightsaber or the sound of a red laser wall. Obi-Wan curled in on himself, his hands fisted in his tunics as if such meagre action could stop his heart from bleeding out. The massive, tearless sobs that tore through his reluctant throat then were less the product of sorrow than the culmination of thirteen years of delayed post traumatic stress. The floor was uncomfortably warm when he finally allowed himself to fall down in a heap of heaving chest and convulsing limbs. A small rational voice in him spoke of the onset of hysteria, of the possibility of dehydration, of the need to pull himself together and perform his duty to the galaxy.

He was Jedi.

With a sheer strength of will borne from long practice, Obi-Wan quelled the palsy shakings of his body. He could not afford to indulge in such fragility. Hyperventilation was counterproductive. Tears were a frivolous use of water. Automatically arranging himself on his knees, he counted to a hundred in Old High Yitish, and his breathing slowed to an appropriate rate. Meditation was futile, he knew. He would find no reprieve from the Force while mired in so much turmoil. So instead he closed his eyes and ruthlessly banished every non-constructive thought. Guilt was quashed, sorrow deposed, doubts murdered, tenderness subsumed. The Force remained. Duty remained. There was nothing else for him.

It took him several minutes to start hearing beyond the sound of his own harsh breathing. There was another voice, gentle, soothing, “…sorry that I left…didn’t mean to hurt…” Very familiar voice. His thought process ground to a halt. The Force. Duty. Nothing else. “…don’t do this to…open your eyes…” He had obeyed this voice all his life.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and saw only blue. Startled, he scrambled backward and bashed his skull against the wall. The resounding _crack_ was embarrassingly loud in the small, darkened room.

“You scared me, Obi-Wan. I could hear what you’re trying to do and…”

It was Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon who had requested another two decades of service from him. Qui-Gon who had simply vanished without goodbye when he had been refused. Qui-Gon who had never spared a thought for Obi-Wan’s feeling, not when matters of greater import like Anakin or Luke had been on his mind. 

Yet the Force ghost crouching on the earth-packed ground before him murmured soft-worded apologies instead condemnations, and he even touched Obi-Wan lightly on the cheek and jaw, insubstantial, faintly tingling caresses meant to appease a sullen child or perhaps calm a wounded animal. No one had touched him so carefully, so delicately since he had become a Knight. Rendered immobile by a melange of conflicting emotions, Obi-Wan found his entire universe narrowing down to the feather-light fingers on his face and the kind-eyed, kind-voiced figure in front of him. And Qui-Gon’s luminous figure was literally the only thing he could see, since night had fallen and his window was much too small to allow in sufficient starlight. When he caught himself unconsciously leaning into that touch, Obi-Wan knew his defences were crumbling. Cold orders and accusations he could resist. But not this. Not this terrible tenderness that brought forth longing he thought long buried…

Obi-Wan jerked backward until he was again pressed against the wall. Qui-Gon dropped his hands, surprised. “Padawan! Please, I …”

His throat was so parched his words came out as a croak. “Qui-Gon, if you are here to persuade me to train Luke Skywalker, please leave now.” To Obi-Wan’s mortification, a tear broke free of his control, but he was too heartsick to wipe it away. “I have heard your points, and you have heard mine. I will not change my mind, so don’t make me argue with you any longer. We’ve argued too much as it is.”

This time it was Qui-Gon who had to look away. In an attempt to stop thinking of the possibility of another, more permanent, separation, Obi-Wan studied his Master’s profile, comparing the leonine features to those in his memory, and found reality much more breathtaking even though everything was covered in a film of blue. 

Tatooine was a planet of ponderous silence. Its inhabitants had long learnt to transverse the vast sand dunes on soundless feet, and thus the absolute tranquility was only disturbed by the occasional howl of rushing winds and by the hunting cries of krayt dragons. The lack of both sound and light lent an illusion of total isolation to their situation. For a moment Obi-Wan fancied that he and Qui-Gon were the only two beings in a pocket universe, with Qui-Gon being his only source of light and companionship.

Mentally shaking his head at the wistful thought, Obi-Wan levered himself to his feet. He walked over to the rough-hewn table and flicked on the solar lamp, so that Qui-Gon’s luminescence was no longer the only thing in his vision. He looked down at the Force ghost, noticing that the other had not stood up, but had only shifted slightly on the ground to face him. “Qui-Gon, I, too, am a Jedi Master, meaningless though that title is now. As such, my opinions deserved your respect if not your understanding. I also do not take kindly to your insinuation that I would shirk my responsibility. You have demanded much of me, and I have never once denied you had it been within my right and power to fulfil your wish.”

The surreality of their height difference grew when Qui-Gon at last spoke. “I have asked many things of you that I should not have asked, haven’t I? I _used_ you, like a tool as you’ve said, to further my own goals. I took advantage of your loyalty and devotion to bind you to my will. I deprived your of your knighthood, your independence, your right to choose your own student, and you paid the price for my mistake.” 

Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon, stricken, by the undeniable truth of those words. These had been sacrilegious ideas, to be banished to the corner of his consciousness and kept under wraps as soon as they had formed, not to be considered and given voice to, because they had seemed too much like betrayal to his mentor’s memories. Yet sometimes under the cover of the night, particularly after a trying day with Anakin, those thoughts would well up in his traitorous mind, whispering _he manipulated you_ , and he would hate himself for thinking them. 

Loyalty and devotion. Obi-Wan had harboured both of these things for the man who had transformed a failed initiate into a successful padawan. But there had also been something else that Qui-Gon had unscrupulously taken advantage of. It had lain between them, unspoken and unacknowledged. Unrequited. Of all the things Qui-Gon had exploited, that one had hurt the most. He wanted… But better let sleeping draigons rest. 

Qui-Gon continued, relentlessly, “Our Order has been completely consequentialist, always placing results above means, prizing our people for their utility instead of their intrinsic value. I had a very similar mindset as well, but now that I can see what my demand has wrought on you, I am sorry that I ever made you promise. You are right to refuse me in this. You’re right to spare Luke of the same fate. Please forgive me.”

Slowly, still numb with shock, Obi-Wan sank down to his knees, bringing his face level with his Master’s. Of all his features, Qui-Gon’s eyes alone had not been changed by death. In their cerulean depths Obi-Wan could still see the same goodness and wisdom that had captivated him when he had been twenty. 

“Tell me. Why are you here?”

“I am here because you are. I’ve missed you, Obi-Wan.”

Two sighs, quiet and clement like Tatooine breeze. 

“I forgive you, Master. I’ve missed you as well.”

**Author's Note:**

> This author becomes frustrated by the fact that even after seven movies the Jedi still believe midichlorian count to be the measure of the amount of good a person can do. Utterly illogical idea, if one would look at Padme or Bail or any number of people. I believe that being a Jedi is a mentality that does not require the Force, and by the time Obi-Wan realises that as well, he shall rock the galaxy.
> 
> In a way, the Old Jedi Order’s mode of operation is incredibly rough. Due to the Jedi’s high demand, they are forced to solve planetary disputes in a top-down manners. Knights swoop in, broker, negotiate, and eventually produce a treaty or an agreement that solve the problem. Thing is, they did not teach the people how to effect social changes. It is like the developed countries on Earth handing out aids and foreign directed investments to the developing countries. The developed countries mean well, of course, but eventually they perpetuate a cycle of poverty and stagnation because their aids fostered dependency instead of self-sufficiency. In short, the Old Jedi Order completely missed the concept of agency and empowerment. “Don’t give a man fish. Teach him fishing.”  
> A lot of the information, particularly on old Republic history, was scavenged from Wookiepedia. If there are any mistakes on names or chronology, please notify me and I’ll fix it. 
> 
> The story is inspired by:  
> Edward Gibbons’ “The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire”  
> David Mitchell’s “Cloud Atlas”, particularly by section “Sonmi’s Orison”  
> Hayao Miyazaki’s “Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind”  
> William Shakespeare's "The Tempest"  
> George Orwell's "1984"


End file.
